Le Bel Homme
by Little Miss Dancer Girl
Summary: No one has ever asked Dominic about how he feels. Maybe that's a good thing; maybe it's not, but eventually somebody has to do so.
1. A Change In Routine

**Author's Note:**** Hello, Style Savvy fandom! I know I should be working on my ****Outsiders**** fics, but I've been reading all of these stories and realized that they either haven't been updated in a while or have a sad ending.**

**So, I have decided to write my own story for you. It's about Dominic, and the plot will be crazy. Don't expect anything Mary-Sue-ish to happen.**

**I'm sorry this chapter is short, but I promise the next one will be much longer! And yes, this is based off of my games (both the old and new). The shop my character owns is the one from Trendsetters. Grace has Strata in the other town.**

**Enjoy!**

I adjust my tie and look at myself in the mirror. I see the face everyone says is just so pretty. I fight the urge to laugh at the thought.

Today I am just going through the motions; it's merely another day of going around and looking handsome.

I straighten my jacket. I fix my hair. I check to be sure I didn't miss any hair on my face when I shaved.

I pull on some shoes. I walk downstairs. I eat the eggs Eunice prepares for me daily.

I leave the manor.

I nod at Godfrey when he opens the limousine door for me. We drive through the town.

But then something happens that screws up the daily routine. Godfrey steers right instead of left. I'm amazed that I can notice such a detail. I open my mouth to say something, but I decide to remain quiet. This is rather a pleasant surprise.

The limousine stops at a boutique that, by the looks of it, recently opened. Through the shop window, I see Renée chatting amicably with a customer. It seems she must have transferred to work at this shop.

"Master Dominic, we have arrived," Godfrey announces as he meets my eye in the mirror. He seems too excited for his own good. He anxiously leaves the car and comes around to open my door for me. When I step out, I take a look at the shop exterior. Above the entrance, MUSE is written in large black letters with a magenta shining from behind. Through the windows, I see that the interior matches the sign, with what seems to be posters and traffic signs covering the walls.

When we walk in, I notice that the traffic signs are actually many different types of signs; one says Broadway, another gives the distance in miles from here to Hollywood, New York City, Miami, and even some cities that I can't seem to pronounce nor identify. There is rock music pounding in my ears, but instead of cringing at it, the bass seems soothing. I must reconsider buying any more Chopin CDs; this genre seems to suit me better, surprisingly.

I am snapped out of my trance when Godfrey introduces me to a girl about my age. She has a name tag on it that says "manager". She has an average look, with dark brown hair swept up in a ponytail, skin not pale enough to be sickly, and light blue eyes. She looks almost _too_ normal.

"This is Christi Adams," Godfrey says, motioning to her. Christi… "Miss Christi, may I introduce you to Master Dominic Strata," He then declares proudly. I then become very conscious of my old suit and shoes, and feel a blush forming in my cheeks. I'm not as amazing as Godfrey and Eunice say I am, and I am certainly one to become nervous about my appearance.

"Hi, pleased to meet you," Christi says, holding out her porcelain-like hand for me to shake.

I take it and say to her "You as well." Not necessarily sure of what else to say, I tell her, "I like this store." I feel like slapping my face, but I don't want to look any dumber than I already do, so just let the blush take over and feel it climbing its way up to my ears.

She laughs. Her laugh is soft and gentle. "Are the music and lights too much for you?" she asks after she catches her breath. "You don't have to say that."

I smirk at this. "Oh, yes I do."


	2. The Rules of the Road

Back at home, I sit on the leather couch in the living room, staring out the window at the courtyard in absolute boredom. I feel Eunice's presence in the room, and I expect her to go tell Godfrey to drag me out of the house again. However, I don't hear any footsteps, thus meaning that she hasn't budged. I sigh.

Eunice then walks up to me, and hesitantly places her hand on my shoulder. "Y-you under stand th-that Godfrey is do-doing this for you- your own good, r-right?"

I don't understand what she meant by saying that, but obviously my trip to MUSE was neither accident nor was it a trip for merely my entertainment. She knows I know, so I just nod, and she nervously walks away. This was too weird; I clearly didn't know all of what's going on, but I'm sure that eventually either Godfrey will tell me or I'll find out on my own. I am Dominic Strata, of course; it's his obligation to tell me.

Later that night, I realize that Godfrey hasn't been home since three o'clock this afternoon.

He's usually here by this hour.

How strange.

Still in my suit, (minus the jacket and tie, since it's just home) I walk outside to the front entryway, knowing that Eunice wouldn't stop me. Hoping to see a limousine, there isn't one, and to make things even more out-of-the-ordinary, a yellow Toyota pulls up and swerves around the fountain instead, and the last person I expect comes out: Christi Adams.

With a look of anxiety plastered on her face, she dashes up to me. Her eyes show a bit of confusion (most likely concerning my being out here at such a time) when she demands, "Dominic, you need to come with me, like, right now."

"Of course," I say out of habit. "Why?" I ask as we walk back to her car. I feel my stomach tie itself up in knots. Does this have to do with what Eunice said about Godfrey?

"Godfrey's in the hospital, ER actually," she gasps out while jamming in the key.

She suddenly slams down on the gas pedal, and I press back against the passenger seat. I am oddly calm, although I wish I was actually hyperventilating. My serenity just says to me that I don't care enough about Godfrey, so to make up for it, I ask Christi how Godfrey got himself into the hospital in the first place.

She shakes her head. "I don't know the details, but he was shot in the shoulder. He lost a lot of blood when I left. He told me to bring you to him; he needs to tell you something, something important," she mutters, seeming to be in a daze.

"Is anyone else there?" I ask all of a sudden.

"Grace and Renée, I saw, along with Libby and Olivia. I don't know if Zoë's still there, but when she was there she said she had to leave," she says. She then scrunches her nose and adds, "I find that a bit suspicious. Not only did everyone show up at the hospital at around the same time, but then Zoë just said she needed to leave; I mean what the hell?!" Her murmur morphs into a yell.

I pat her arm reassuringly. She takes her eyes off the road for a second and meets my eyes. Then, she silently pulls into the hospital parking lot, as if nothing had happened.

I don't register when the car stops; Christi just pulls me out of the passenger seat, and we sprint towards the front door.

"Christi Adams and Dominic Strata," I gasp to the lady operating the front desk. She nods and mutters "214."

Without a sound other than our heavy breathing, we dash to the elevator. Once the doors close, I have a good 15 seconds to think.

However, I waste them on my proximity to Ms. Adams, and when the doors open, I still have a frazzled mind.

I watch the numbers as we run by:  
200...  
202...  
204...  
206...

By the time we approach room 214 my legs feel numb.

We hurry in and I see Godfrey hooked up to several IVs and a heart monitor, in addition to several bandages on his right shoulder, a neck brace, and a cast on his left shin.

"Master Dominic..." he manages to say.

"Godfrey... What is it that you need to tell me?" I ask tentatively.

"Th-that man wh-who sh-shot me... he w-was looking f-for you," he stutters. "I'm n-not sure why, but h-he's after you."


	3. In a Daze

**Author's Note****: I've changed the ages of the characters a little to fit my new plotline, because it's gonna have a lot of supernatural crime going on and there will be dark themes, but I assure you I rated this T for a reason. I don't intend for there to be any overly mature themes present.**

**In this story, Dominic's twenty, Christi's seventeen, Grace is twenty-one, Ren****é****e's nineteen, Libby's sixteen, and Zo****ë****'s nineteen. Deal with it.**

**Thanks for reading my babble! To reward you, here's the next chapter!**

**LMDG:)**

The trip home took less time than I thought. I take a deep breath as I sit somewhat calmly on the leather couch, trying to process what Godfrey said to me:

_"That man who shot me... he was looking for you. I'm not sure why, but he's after you."_

I still can't believe Godfrey even got shot. And, telling from his injuries, he wasn't just shot; he was beaten as well.

Libby walks in with Christi in tow. Libby had tagged along on the way back to the manor. Being relatives and all, I can tell that Libby can't stand to see Godfrey in such pain.

"How are you holding up?" Libby asks. I admire that although she's way more upset about this than I, my take on this concerns her.

"I suppose I'm alright. How about you two?" I respond, directing the question now to Christi, who hasn't said a word since we left Godfrey's side. I look at her, and her expression gives off the feeling of tension.

"I'm okay. Grandpa's gonna be fine," Libby says, reassuring herself more than the rest of us. Christi merely nods, her face still the same.

Suddenly, I blurt out, "Well, I guess I'm off to bed. Good night," and head upstairs. What an idiotic thing to say at a time like this.

Once I'm under the covers, I think. Who could've possibly beaten and shot Godfrey? I go through a list in my mind, eliminating possible suspects until there's nobody left. I grunt in frustration. The good thing about being alone is that I can think about things in my own way, not how everyone else expects me to. I'll murmur to myself, grunt, sigh, and fiddle with anything I can get my hands on. I'm still seventeen, yet I own at least twenty stores and am the head of a major fashion corporation. That's just not normal.

On that happy note, I fall asleep.


	4. I Don't Know Much About You

**Author's Note:**** Sorry that last chapter was so short! I didn't realize it until I published it… oops:P Also, this took way longer to write than intended. I had so many different ideas of where this should go, so I had to choose! Eventually, I chickened out and combined my ideas all into one. :)**

**Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter posted sooner. I'm already working on it!**

**I don't really have anything else to say, other than enjoy, so…please do!**

When I wake up, I feel dizzy and nauseous. Yesterday's events stir tumultuously in my head, giving me a pounding sensation that feels like my brain is bulging out against my skull.

I decide to give myself a good ten minutes to try to wait for the pain to subside. When I hear my stomach grumble, however, I change my mind.

Still in my sleepwear, I gingerly make my way downstairs, stopping once every few steps to blink away dancing black spots that cloud my vision. Once I get to the dining hall, I see that Christi is helping herself ever so tentatively to some homemade pancakes slathered in syrup.

"Good morning," she says without looking up.

"Uh… morning," I mutter drowsily as I take a seat across the table from her where my meal has been set up. The dining table is quite long, being at least ten feet in length, and so sitting so far away from Christi in a lonely, intimidating dining hall like this was pretty awkward. All I could hear was the clattering of our silverware and my breakfast in my mouth as I chewed it.

I finally decide to break the silence. "So… I don't really know that much about you," I blurt out, the words falling from my lips as if there was no filter.

This time she looks up and meets my eyes. The little burst of electricity that ran through me last night when she looked at me like that seems to come back for a split second. "Well, my full name is Christina Marie Adams, I'm seventeen, I like Italian food, and my favorite color is black. What about you?" she responds, as if we're in elementary school and telling the class about ourselves, only saying the shallow and basic facts.

"No, I mean… well, I'll be more specific," I make out. "What did you do before you got involved in business?"

Christi looks at me with a nostalgic expression. Then she speaks. "Before I got into business, my family and I traveled the world. Sometimes we'd stay in places for a year or so; other times we'd leave just after a week, but I never knew of a better was to spend my life."

My face must show my astonishment, because she smirks. "It may not sound all that great, but to me it was wonderful. I felt like a princess, going from town to town, city to city."

"That's not what I meant by that," I mutter. "Did you ever wonder about living in one place?"

She takes a moment to think about it. "Sometimes. I knew we had to keep moving, but deep down I wanted to stay somewhere. Anywhere. But we couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?" I find myself asking.

She shakes her head and stands up. "It's not important now. We need to find that guy who's allegedly out to kill you, Dominic. That's what's important."

Oh, right. The guy who shot my butler and is now after me. I forgot. I feel a tug in my gut, which wasn't improving my physical state at all.

I know she's right, and I'm terrified for my life.

But I have a strong feeling that Christi's been hiding more than just a few things from me.


	5. How Awkward

There is probably no worse situation than the one in which you have nothing to do. Instead of using your energy on something useful, you waste it on trying to occupy yourself, most of times without any success.

Unfortunately for me, this is one of those times.

My eyes remain focused on the flames waning into embers in the grand fireplace, as they have been for what seems like hours. The only sounds audible were the crackling of the fire and my tedious breaths.

Until, however, when I hear the doorbell ring.

I hear Eunice's frantic footsteps along with her voice, zooming from my right to my left,

"I'll get it; I'll get it!"

Ah, Eunice.

It takes a second for me to process that I have been given a wonderful excuse to stop sitting around. I cautiously stand up and head towards the foyer.

Eunice then brushes by me, muttering an apology with a crazed look on her face, which only meant…

I looked up at the hooded figure at the door who then reveals her face.

Christi Adams.

"Oh, hello," I murmur in surprise.

Not a word from her.

"Uh, it's very nice to see you again…" I spit out, scolding myself the second it leaves my lips. You're such an idiot, Dominic.

"You too," she replies, not meeting my eyes.

Eager to pass by the awkward greeting, I say, "I hope all is well down at your shop."

That didn't help a bit.

"…Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "Not really. I just went and visited Godfrey. He's doing okay and will be out in a couple weeks. He told me to stay at the mansion and look after you in his absence."

I blink. Godfrey wants her to keep an eye on me? Of all things…

"My things are in my car, if you'll let me bring them in…"

I snap out of my odd trance and say, "Oh, of course."

She then awkwardly heads back outside.

Why me?

**Author's Note:**** Sorry it's so short, but I've been real busy this past weekend! Next chapter will hopefully be better (and much longer)!**

**-LMDG:)**


	6. Frustrating

**Author's**** Note: Unfortunately, this is a filler. I hope you like the chapter, though! (Came up with it on the spot...)**

**Enjoy!**

Godfrey is slowly getting better. Christi has practically moved in to the manor, much to Eunice's delight. She seems to love having another girl around. I have no idea what they discuss when I'm not within earshot, but lately she's in a very bright mood.

Christi, on the other hand, is practically the same-rather distant and cautious. Although Godfrey wants her to "keep an eye on me", she lets me be much of the time. Usually only minutes pass when we're in the same room until she leaves. She doesn't speak to me unless I initiate the conversation. She rarely looks me in the eye, and when she does, the moment is always cut short because she quickly looks away.

It makes me wonder if have I done anything wrong.

Yesterday, Libby stopped by to say hello to Christi. Despite their opposite personalities, they seem to be good friends, closer than how Christi is with Eunice, at least. They were talking about the "good old days", whatever they were, which was odd because they're merely teenage girls, not sixty-year-old women. All I heard out of the conversation was that Christi loved (loves?) archery. I've never tried archery before, but it sounds fun, judging by the wistful look on her face as she described it.

Yes, I admit I do watch her sometimes. And no, it's not stalking. When you're cooped up in the same household as somebody else, you're bound to run into one another occasionally. In those cases, Christi just didn't notice me. Not stalking.

As for right now, I'm eating dinner. Some fancy chicken Eunice made. Christi, as usual, is sitting what feels like a mile away, the only sound coming from her being her silverware occasionally tapping on her plate.

Sometimes women, especially her, can be so frustrating.


	7. What's Going On?

**Author's Note: ****Since I let you all down by taking this long to actually post this chapter so you can see it, I decided to make it up to you by updating it early. How neat is that? **

**Lastly, here is where the plot actually begins! Enjoy! (It's like I'm serving you guys soup or something… "enjoy!")**

Only now do I realize that it was stupid of me to ignore that awful headache a few days ago. Now it's morphed into some sort of migraine. Light hurts my eyes. I feel dizzy and see black spots whenever I stand. I can't forget the constant pulsing inside my skull, like my brain is pushing against the bone in an attempt to break out. I've been cocooning in my bedroom since yesterday.

Since then, I have been joyfully writhing in the dark and silence. Christi's distance is now a blessing.

Suddenly, I hear the door creak open, and I hear a voice. Ever so ironically, it's Christi's voice. "Dominic, how're you holding up?"

I want to say something along the lines of _leave me alone_, but I just say "Fine," to be somewhat diplomatic.

I hear the door close and assume she's gone, but then I hear her sit on a chair near to my bed. _Whatever._

Christi is silent for what seems like a solid hour, and then speaks. "Dominic, when do you turn eighteen?" she asks.

Immediately I answer "In a week, I think." Truthfully, I haven't looked at a calendar recently, so I could very well be off.

More silence.

"What are your parent's names?"

I can't help but think she is suffering from amnesia. Everyone knows who my parents are. Or were.

"Sebastian and Janet Strata, of course," I remind her.

Her barely audible gasp in response surprises me.

"Of course," she murmurs. "I can't believe…"

She hurriedly stands up and dashes out of the room.

By now, I've learned to expect such behavior from her.

However, I still can't help but wonder what's going on…


	8. Better?

Ever since Christi left my room, I've been a mess. It's now just after sunset, and I might as well have gone to Mars, taken off my helmet, and tried to swim back to Earth. I'm not sure what is more annoying—the unbearable pounding in my head or my dreadful panting. My bed is colder than a refrigerator, and yet I'm sure I've sweat enough to fill my swimming pool outside.

How do I know the sun has set? I'm not sure. The curtains are closed, and they're so thick that my room looks the same all 24 hours of the day.

That's the one thing that nags at me the fact that what I've come down with isn't a mere flu virus.

* * *

It's only been ten minutes, and I shockingly have improved. I'm no longer experiencing temperature issues, for starters. My breathing has gone back to normal as well. Still, the pounding continues.

I honestly thought I would eventually come to ignore it, being that it has been quite a while since it started, but it just keeps worsening by the minute. I cannot simply ignore it.

Thus, I decide to go downstairs. Somebody should be able to help me.

Amazingly, I don't feel dizzy when I stand up or walk anymore. Moving is now like being in a vacuum, like I am being sucked to wherever I am going. Compared to my earlier state, this is wonderful.

It's a shame my head still hurts.

The only one here is Christi. I don't have a clue of how I know that. I walk into the dining hall and she's there, innocently eating some soup. I sense that she's troubled.

She looks up and notices me. "How are you?"

I suddenly feel very, very hungry. "Hungry," I say primitively.

We speak quickly and curtly. "Here, have some soup," says she, motioning to the seat to her right, having a bowl of steaming soup sitting there. This is the first time I have the opportunity to sit next to her.

I practically inhale the soup, but the hunger doesn't vanish in the slightest. "Still hungry," I murmur.

Christi stares at me, examining me. "Does your head still hurt?"

I nod in response.

"Then it's time we go hunting"

* * *

**Author's Note:**** Well, that's it! I know, another cliff hanger, but I just can't help it! Bye!**


	9. Dawning On You

**Author's Note****: I updated some of my chapters to fit my plotline better. Hope you don't mind.**

**Also, I have the ages of the Trendsetters characters: Michaela is twenty-seven, Emmylou is eighteen, Teagan is eighteen, Avery is twenty-eight, India is nineteen, and Rocco is twenty.**

**Since it's been a while, I'll give you a nice, long chapter. Sorry for the wait!**

**Enjoy!**

I don't remember much about last night, other than the fact that I was in awful condition. Now it seems that I am back to normal. But I haven't gotten out of bed yet—

It occurs to me that I am not in my bed. I'm on the sofa. I move into a sitting position, expecting soreness, but it doesn't come. I feel eerily fine.

A few minutes pass until the doorbell rings. I get up and just open the door when Godfrey starts babbling.

"Oh, Master Dominic, you're alright! I was so worried for you, my boy; I had no idea of what to do—"

"Godfrey, you're up and at 'em again," I interrupt, trying to take the focus off of me.

At this, Godfrey takes a long look at me. "Good grief, you have blood on your shirt. I'll have to get that dry-cleaned."

I look down at myself and see that my nice suit (since when did I change into a suit last night?) is completely destroyed. Large areas of the fabric were bloodstained, and the knees of my pants along with pieces of my shirt and jacket were practically gone.

How can Godfrey be so calm about this? I ask him this.

He just sighs. "You should be told now. You're old enough and you deserve to know. But first, you have a meeting today. Go and freshen up."

Damn. I completely forgot.

That, in short, was the most boring meeting I've ever attended. I don't like listening to statistics and all that, but the intern's voice was just so bland and emotionless I wanted to punch him.

And I don't typically resort to violence. It's just not me.

I go and get a cup of water when I am nudged in the shoulder. Some water gets on me, but not a lot.

"Oh! I'm so, so sorry!" comes from the person. I look up, and there's a lady I've never seen before. Her dark reddish hair was in a nice updo and she wore all black. I look into her grey eyes and I feel a bit uncomfortable.

"No, it's fine. Water dries," I say, brushing myself off. "I don't believe we've met."

Grace walks up to us, beaming. "Oh, yeah, I should introduce you two. Dominic, this is Miss Audrey Smith, my newest employee. I'm showing her around. Audrey, this is my boss, Dominic."

Unlike other newbies, whose eyes widen and words fumble hopelessly when they meet me, Audrey meets my gaze again and says coolly, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Strata."

The way she says my name all formal is actually somewhat endearing. I reply with, "You as well, Miss Smith."

She smirks at me as Grace escorts her down the hall.

The first thing I notice when I drive past the gates to the Strata manor is that Christi isn't here. Not sure how or why, but I don't feel her presence here at all.

Godfrey tells me that she went back to her apartment when he returned and Eunice is on a vacation with her family, so it's just him and me. I figure that it's best he tells me about what's going on now since nobody's here.

He agrees, and we sit down in the parlor. Godfrey pulls a picture out of his jacket pocket.

"Dominic, I've been serving your family for almost fifty years," he explains. "I've seen many things occur within these four walls, many… _strange_ things."

He pauses and motions to the sword on the wall over the fireplace. "That sword may look like a typical family heirloom from the Middle Ages, but it actually was acquired when I was just a few years older than you. And it wasn't sitting there at the time, either; it was being used."

"For what, might I ask?"

"This is the strange part, and you must believe me: it was used for killing vampires."

I can't help but laugh. After a minute or so, he continues, entirely serious.

"I'm sure you want to see proof," he says, showing me the picture. "This photograph was taken when I was your age. That's your father, and his father, and his mother, and that girl over there is his governess. Now take a good look at the governess."

I take the photo in my hands and study the governess. She looks about seventeen, with average shoulder-length dark brown hair and pale skin and light blue eyes—

"She looks just like Christi," I murmur.

"She _is_ Christi."

**I'm on a roll, so the next chapter will be up soon!**

**And BTW, Audrey is like the main character of the first game while Christi is the main character of the second one.**


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